


Joui Chronicles II

by SkyChasingDreamer



Category: Gintama
Genre: Angst, Blood, Childhood Friends, Comrades, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-14 02:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyChasingDreamer/pseuds/SkyChasingDreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Joui Four during war time. Is connected to Joui Chronicle I.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**UNO**

It was blessedly quiet for once, which never seemed to happen. There was always men running around yelling or something was going wrong or swords were clashing – making that loud rake of metal against metal – there was  _always_  something. But that night it was quiet, so Gintoki was intent on enjoying that until he was disturbed and unfortunately, that was something that never took very long.

He was hiding out on the roof of whatever building they were staying in for the night. It was a stroke of luck they'd even found a place to shelter in at all, so he was sprawled out on his back, dozing under the stars. He liked to look at them when he could find the time, always had; they made him feel safer somehow, as stupid as that sounded. The sky was like a blanket and he felt better when he was under it, that was all. And he was outside, so he could better hear what was going on around him. If there was any trouble anywhere, he'd be on it in a flash.

His sword was inside, leaning against the door frame and it wasn't his, so he really didn't care what happened to it. He'd be needing a new one soon anyway, the blade was starting to go dull and he didn't have a whetstone on hand to sharpen it. His armor was inside, too. Having been in it for the whole of two days, he was ready for a break. The thin clothes he was wearing were perfect for the weather – warm, but with a cool breeze that he relished. He was relaxed, but he wasn't relaxing, that really wasn't a luxury he could afford anymore.

He was actually surprised he was on his own, normally when he was on the roof Sakamoto was with him. Though Gintoki really didn't say much, that man consistently went on and on about the stars and space. With anyone else, Gintoki would get annoyed and go find a different, quieter place, but he didn't mind that Sakamoto never shut up. It was the way Sakamoto spoke about space, so passionately with hand gestures and a voice that rose and fell. Sakamoto became so  _alive_  when he talked about space and  _that_ was why Gintoki didn't mind the other's ceaseless chatter.

Hearing a noise from below, he stopped breathing and waited. Did anyone know he was on the roof? Crap, probably since that was where he always went when he could. Maybe he could make an escape before – a warm hand closed around his ankle.

"No, no, no, let go!" Gintoki screeched, hands scrambling against the roof as he was slowly dragged off. "Do not want!"

But it was too late, he slid off the edge at the same time the hand let go of him and managed to land crouched on his feet. Sakamoto stood on the porch with a huge, retarded grin on his face and his hand raised in a wave.

"Your presence was requested."

Gintoki stood up straight and glared. "More like demanded. What was so important you had to drag me off the roof? How'd you even all the way up there? Guh," he threw his hands up cursing, "tall people!"

"Well, you know normally I'd be right up there with you, but our fair Katsura has summoned us."

"Fair," he snorted scornfully under his breath. Louder, he groused, "Since when does Zura give orders, haah?!"

"It's not Zura, it's Katsura!"

Hissing, Gintoki pushed passed Sakamoto and followed the voice inside to a single lamp lit room. Zura was sitting cross-legged on the edge of a big round rug and of all the things he could have been doing, he was shuffling a deck of cards. Gintoki edged his way farther in, gaze flicking to where Takasugi was sitting next to Zura before going back to the cards.

"Whazzat?"

"Don't know, found them in a drawer," Zura replied, continuing to shuffle the deck. Pausing, he picked up a small sheet of paper and waved it around. "Here are the rules, read so we can play."

"You got me down here to play  _cards?!_ And now you want me to read things? I'm goin' back to the roof." He tried to go back out the door, but Sakamoto, grinning, was in his way. "Or I'll just... go sit my ass down..."

"The only surprising thing about this is that you're surprised," Takasugi said with a smirk aimed Gintoki's way.

Gintoki scowled at him and  _eep-_ ed when Sakamoto kicked the back of his right knee and pushed him until he fell on his ass. Laughing loudly at Gintoki's glare, Sakamoto sat down next to him, still grinning – the fool – to complete the circle.

"Give me the rules," he relented, holding out his hand.

"This could be awhile," Takasugi quipped to Zura just loud enough for everyone to hear.

Gintoki ground his teeth and glared into Takasugi's smug, poison green gaze. So what if he wasn't the fastest reader in the world! Reading speed equated to nothing in a war and it wasn't like any of them really had time to do much of anything recreational! And why would they want to? Reading without pictures, what was that even besides a waste of time?

"Be careful, bastard," Gintoki warned, brow ticking, "I'm not above throttling you."

"Who are you kidding? You're not above anything."

There was a loud  _smack_  as Zura slapped Takasugi on the back of the head with a friendly smile. "Hush now, children. There's a reason you two aren't sitting next to each other. Now! Listen up! We're going to do a practice round so we can all learn at the same time."

Gintoki and Takasugi glared at each other a moment more before looking at the cards Zura dealt them, seven in all. Gintoki listened as the rules were explained and overall, the game turned out to be simple. Four colors, each set of colors having numbers one through nine. Play the color on top of the pile or change the color by playing a matching number. The objective was to get rid of all the cards, but for it to count  _uno_  had to be said when there was only one card in the hand. The other cards, those were easy to follow since they told exactly what to do – draw four, skip, draw two, reverse, and wild where it could be changed to any color.

No problem, it would be easy.

Zura took all the cards back and began shuffling, the way he did it made Gintoki think the other enjoyed it much more than he should and ugh, that was creepy. Shaking his head, he dismissed the thought and sighed, trying to get himself to relax. It wasn't happening though, he remained tensed and pretty uncomfortable. Being inside where he couldn't see around him or hear very well, it put him on edge. There were sentries posted in all directions, but just because there were guards didn't mean they were safe. Hell, the most adept fighters of the bunch were all inside playing  _cards!_

Said cards were distributed and Gintoki took up his, one of his knees jiggling with his built up anxiousness. He started since he was to the left of the dealer and he threw down a red to go on top of the red Zura had flipped over from the rest of the deck. Sakamoto went, then of course Takasugi had to be a shit and throw down a red reverse. Zura grumbled something, but that was the only sound in the room other than the flick of the cards as they were dropped. First Sakamoto's red, then Gintoki's last one of that color. Zura preened as he set down a red draw two, smiling innocently at Takasugi who glared as he drew.

Five minutes.

It took five minutes for the quiet that Gintoki had relished on the roof to become a distant and faded memory. The lot of them were full out ululating at each other as tempers flared and personalities clashed. It was a surprise no blood had been spilled and they were still on their first stupid, accursed round!

"UNO!" Sakamoto yelled with that big, goofy grin of his after he put down a yellow four.

Gintoki rocked a little, looking at all his cards. All nine of them. But at least he wasn't doing as bad as Zura who had fourteen. He had a yellow, but instead of playing it, he threw out a blue four to change the color. Sakamoto cried a distressed 'noooo' and Gintoki smirked in a way to bare his teeth.

"Baboom!" Zura announced, throwing down a draw four.

"How many of those do you even have?!" Takasugi snapped, fuming as he drew four for the second time in a row.

"Not telling!"

Sakamoto drew five cards before finding one of the right color. "Aha! Success!"

Gintoki tossed down a card, then Zura, then Takasugi, then Sakamoto, then Gintoki again. Peace reigned for a moment, a blissful moment that should have been appreciated more than it was.

"Zura! Why would you reverse it, fuck!"

"It's not Zura, it's Katsura!

Takasugi made a frustrated noise. "Why does everyone keep giving me the draw cards?!"

"Because you suck," Gintoki snarked.

"Wild!" Zura declared. "Changing it to red!"

"The color of your blood when I cut you," Gintoki snarled under his breath as he drew from the deck. Luck was on his side and he picked one his first try. "Ah... phew."

"UNO!"

"You're cheating!"

"You have to be cheating!"

"How are you doing it?" Gintoki demanded, grabbing at Sakamoto's sleeves to look up them and inspect. "Show me your dark arts!"

"Check his hair!"

"It's full of secrets," Zura whispered fiercely, looking close to crawling across the rug to do some sleuthing of his own.

Sakamoto pushed Gintoki away and held his card close, that stupid grin on his face. "Ahahaa! Come on guys, you've watched me the whole time! You should practice losing with more class. Takasugi, your turn!"

When it got to be Gintoki's turn, he threw down a reverse, smirking devilishly at Sakamoto whose shoulders had sagged impressively.

"No!  _Why!_ " Takasugi got on his knees and snagged the front of Zura's shirt, lifting him up a little. "A draw four? Do you  _save_  these for me or something?!"

"And if I do?"

Gintoki burst out laughing and got a card from the discard pile thrown at his face. It hit his forehead and uselessly fluttered down into his lap, making Gintoki laugh even harder because it was the draw four.

"He has, like, a fourth of the deck in his hands," Gintoki chortled and Sakamoto's laugh easily drowned his own out.

Takasugi, with obvious reluctance, dropped Zura and moodily hunkered down, drawing four to add to his collection. "Oh, it is on! I'm not going to go easy on you!"

"That's what she said," Sakamoto whispered to Gintoki in a strained voice and they both cracked up.

"I heard that!" Takasugi's hair was frazzled, strands no longer pristine and brushed. He pointed threatening to Sakamoto, who grinned, and Zura, who stuck his tongue out, then fanned his many cards out to see them all. "Both of you are going  _down."_

He threw out a draw two that ended Sakamoto's potential win and the whole vicious cycle started up again. That one stupid round went on for over two hours and it was  _fun._ They laughed, they bantered, and for that short time, Gintoki was able to forget about the war and all that went with it. The magic of the night would end come morning, if not sooner, but they enjoyed it while they could.

And when Sakamoto eventually threw down his last card and started up a yeti victory call, there were three other voices shouting for a rematch.


	2. Being in a War Isn't All About the Manly Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nearing his wit's end, Gintoki sucks it up and does what he needs to for those that matter most to him.

Gintoki was on edge, nerves pulled tight and he hated to admit it, but with just the right amount of pushing, he'd reach his wit's end. He was exhausted, but exhaustion was such a constant in his life now that he was pretty much resigned to it. It'd just been overly strenuous the past week – least, he thought it was a week, could be more, could be less than that, he wasn't sure.

He was poised on an overhang at the top of a ridge, a small forest thicket behind him. He could see well from his vantage point and he prided himself that his eyes were keen enough to not miss much. At the faintest sound behind him, he spun around into a crouch, right hand closed around the hilt of his sword.

"Woah, easy there," Sakamoto said, hands up with palms out and a smile across his face. A strained smile, a tired one. "It's just me."

Relaxing enough to stand up straight, Gintoki released his sword and nodded, no words really needed on his part. Not that he would be able to come up with anything of worth to say. Fatigue was wearing him thin, drawing him out taut, and being on sentry duty most of the night hadn't helped a damn thing.

Sakamoto came closer to take his place, relieving him for a bit so he could go sit for awhile, maybe sleep if he could manage it when his nerves were so shot. But when he took a step, he swayed until Sakamoto grabbed his shoulders. Instead of rocking to the side, his forehead fell to Sakamoto's shoulder with a dull thump and the real surprise came from the fact that somehow, he was still standing when he could hardly feel his legs anymore.

"Got here just in time," Sakamoto said cheerily, an arm going around Gintoki's back to brace him. "Any longer you'd be face first in the dirt." It was meant to be a joke, but it fell flat and they both knew it. Sighing, Sakamoto gave his body a little squeeze saying softly, "You're burnt out, Kintoki."

"M'not," he mumbled back, his indignation immediately flaring up, however weakly.

"Yeah, sure. If you want me to believe that, how about you start by supporting your own weight?"

Annoyed, Gintoki pushed away, stumbled, corrected himself, and squared his shoulders. Sakamoto snorted and slowly clapped, keeping the sound quiet, but no less mocking. Gintoki rolled his eyes and made to leave, but paused before he got so much as a step away.

"How... is he?"

"Better," Sakamoto replied with a firm nod. "Go see for yourself and... get some rest, if you can."

He nodded to appease, but thought it unlikely since the sun was only a few short hours from rising. With a halfhearted wave and a, "My name is not Kintoki, idiot," Gintoki set off back to the base they'd secured and situated for themselves. His footsteps were dismal thuds against the bare earth, the path he was taking through the thicket of trees so worn there was no grass, only dirt. It was a solid twenty minutes before he got back to the small cluster of houses – an abandoned village, its people run out by the war – and as he went, the men in the faction made way for him. A lot of them wouldn't even look at him as he passed, but that was okay, he never really concerned himself with them when he wasn't trying to keep as many of them alive as possible.

And the last thing he wanted to find waiting for him outside the house he was after was an obviously agitated Takasugi, but of course that was what he found. Takasugi was prowling restlessly back and forth in front of the door, hand on the hilt of his sword and green eyes blazing. Gintoki took a deep breath and mentally prepared himself, Takasugi was never easy to deal with, especially when worked up. Give an emotionally retarded and skilled samurai too many emotions all at once, the outcome could be relatively disastrous, not to mention destructive. Gintoki was thinking of himself on that assessment as well, knowing it applied to him at times.

"About damn time you showed up," Takasugi said, bringing Gintoki to a stop by getting in his way.

The headache hit Gintoki all at once, making it feel like his brain was slamming into his skull and he raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, eyes scrunching shut. "Don't give me this, let's just go inside."

"Go  _inside?_ " Takasugi growled. "We shouldn't even be here!"

"And where should we be?"

"Out there!" He could hear Takasugi motioning, but he didn't open his eyes to see. "Hunting down the bastard that did this!"

Gintoki sighed and dropped his arm, eyes slitting open. "Leave it on the field."

That only made Takasugi angrier. "It's always so easy for you to say stuff like that, like you don't give a shit about anything! So instead of going and making that asshole pay, we're sitting here doing  _nothing_!"

Takasugi was close to striking out at him, he could tell. Anxious and worried, having no choice but to wait – Takasugi wasn't the only one feeling it. Gintoki disliked staying in one place too long as it was, add more on top of that and his skin started to crawl. He knew what Takasugi wanted and deep down, he wanted the same thing, but that wasn't the most tactical move. In reality, it would most likely cause more damage than it would solve and put them all at risk. Takasugi was itching for a fight, something to pour himself into and work out all that was building up inside. Tired as Gintoki was, he got his shit together – headache and all else be damned – because Takasugi needed that of him.

"It's not our duty to seek revenge," he said calmly, watching Takasugi closely.

The punch came sooner than expected, but Gintoki  _had_ been expecting it. He caught Takasugi's wrist and pulled hard, the momentum spinning them. In a quick movement that was neither kind nor fair, he kneed Takasugi in the stomach and threw the other to the ground. He was bigger than Takasugi and used his advantage to pin him down. Gintoki was crouched, one knee braced on the ground, the other knee pressing into Takasugi's stomach. He had his right hand on the other's chest, his left one in a fist and half-raised, threatening a nasty punch to the face.

"Fucking bastard," Takasugi snarled, huffing to get his breath back, both hands gripping tight to Gintoki's armor.

Anyone else would have backed down, would have seen the fury in Takasugi's eyes and taken off knowing that their demise would soon be at hand. Takasugi was  _not_ someone to mess with, not unless a sword through the throat was the desired outcome. But Gintoki didn't shy away, he met Takasugi's glare head on and didn't baulk or falter. He didn't just see the fighter Takasugi was on the battlefield, ruthless and precise with unparalleled skill. No, Gintoki saw more than that. He saw not only the rage there, but what was buried underneath it. He saw the kid Takasugi still was, the weariness etched into every feature, the worry for their friend, the inexorable strain of being thrown into a world and situation none of them were prepared for. In many ways, Gintoki saw himself – he was just better at hiding it.

"We can't go off seeking revenge every time something bad happens," he said, knee pressing down harder to keep Takasugi from struggling, his fingers clutching a fistful of fabric. "Keep your eyes trained on the goal, don't get distracted or we'll lose you."

Takasugi's teeth grit. "I don't get it, it's like you don't care at all what happened."

Gintoki punched him. Sometimes the only way to get through to Takasugi was to beat it into him and Gintoki wasn't averse to doing so.

Face and body remaining carefully under control, he stared, his left arm going back into a half-cocked position. "Now you're just being stupid. Do you think Zura would be happy if you went off and died avenging him?"

Takasugi scoffed and looked away, the anger – so much anger – slowly giving way to something softer. Lowering his left arm, Gintoki let out a breath and loosened his grip. He knew exactly how Takasugi felt, he wanted to gut the Amanto who'd so severely injured Zura just as bad, but what good would that do? Zura would still be injured and yeah, one Amanto would be dead, but there were thousands more to take its place. Nothing would be solved, he'd just feel a little better, but that wouldn't last, it never did.

"We should be doing something," Takasugi grumbled and Gintoki could hear the question there loud and clear:  _What can I do?_

Nodding, Gintoki pushed himself up and got to his feet. "Yeah, we should be." He offered Takasugi a hand and snorted when it was batted away. "We should have been doing this the whole time, stupid."

The look Takasugi gave him made something in his chest hurt, it was so innocent, so much like the way Takasugi used to be, it drove home just how much they'd all changed. But seeing a glimpse of the old Takasugi was also refreshing and relieving, brief though the moment would be.

"Right here," Gintoki said, pointing behind him with his thumb, " _this_  is where we need to be. We should be helping Zura get better, then let him take his own revenge. Unlike you, he's smart and patient enough to wait for a fight instead of going to seek it out."

Takasugi bristled a moment, offended, but soon after relaxed and huffed. Satisfied, Gintoki motioned Takasugi to follow and led the way inside, already prepared for what he'd find. The air smelled of poultice – lacking actual medicine and always running low or completely out of supplies, they often had to turn to natural herbs which gave off an earthly scent most of the time. Zura was laying on his left side in a pile of blankets, some of which they'd found and washed when they'd stumbled upon the empty, broken down village. Gintoki had wanted and still wanted to start a fire to keep Zura warm, but there was no way they could do that, the smoke would give them away.

Zura roused as the door was shut and Takasugi turned up the lamp they had, washing the room in a faint yellow glow. Gintoki took of his sword and propped it up next to the door, the rest of his armor staying on even though the bracers were starting to chafe. Katsura's face was pale and his eyes were shadowed by dark circles, but regardless of that, the other was actually looking better compared to how bad it had gotten there for awhile.

"I was wondering where everyone had gotten off to," Katsura said, still drowsy.

"Yeah right," Gintoki scoffed lightly, "you were sleeping."

"Irrelevant," he quipped back.

Gintoki walked over and pulled back the covers, but not before flicking Katsura's forehead. It had become a habit of his to always check the wound every time he was around, he liked to see it for himself and monitor its progress. Infection was easy to see as well as scent, the smell sour and curdling, but there was no trace of it in the air. Katsura held still for him as he gently pushed up his shirt and peeled the matte bandage back to take a peek underneath. He lightly touched the reddened skin around the deep wound in Katsura's side below his ribcage, eyes roving over the scab that was forming. It would leave a nice scar and Katsura was lucky he'd be able to walk away soon with just that.

"It looks better," he said as he carefully put everything back into place and covered Katsura up. "Too bad your mouth still works."

"Oh, please, you'd get bored if you couldn't talk to me. Now, help me move, I want to sit up."  
He knew better than to argue, so he shifted somethings around until there was an incline in the blankets and Katsura was able to lean back against them. Gintoki sat right there next to him while Takasugi, the antsy thing, loitered farther away by the door. Gintoki was no less fidgety, but he hid his knowing it would help Katsura more.

"Hungry?"

Katsura shook his head. "Could use some more meds though."

Gintoki obediently reached over to the bag nearby and rustled around in it until he found the container. He handed it to Katsura and took it back when the other was done to put it away. What they had wasn't the best painkillers out there, but it was all they could get and the mixture actually pack a punch when enough was taken. Katsura was the only one who really knew amounts and dosages or whatever. Gintoki never took the stuff, he hated being numbed or sluggish even if it did take some of the pain away, but that was just the way he was.

"What time is it?"

"Early," Takasugi replied, peering through some drapes on the far side of the room. "Sun will be rising in maybe two hours or so."

"And Sakamoto is where?"

Gintoki sighed – Takasugi wasn't the only one he had to contend with. Katsura was asking questions and being efficient, as always, but the frustration was there, too. Being wounded and cooped up, Gintoki was easily the worst out of all of them when it came to that. He could have a sword jutting out of his back and he'd still keep going, loathing ever having to stop or slow down. Katsura was probably the best at dealing with it, but that didn't mean he liked it and Gintoki could sense the other's growing disquiet.

"He just replaced me on watch," Gintoki said, mind working, trying to come up with something he could do.

His eyes landed on the bag to his side and within it he found his answer. Scooting, he positioned himself behind Katsura and pulled the other's hair back, removing the hair tie so it fanned out over the back of the stack making up the incline. Plucking the brush out, he took hold of it and ran it through Katsura's hair, gently working out the few tangles that had amassed. Crossing his legs, he smirked at Katsura's happy little noise and kept brushing until there wasn't a snag to be found. He brushed some more even after it was perfectly straight knowing how much Katsura liked the feeling and the attention.

He kept it up for maybe ten minutes before setting the brush aside and dividing Katsura's hair into three rows. It had been a long while since he'd last braided the other's hair – back when they were kids – but he remembered how to do it well enough. He took the left outer grouping of hair and brought it to the middle, then did the same with the right outer column.

"Alright, move over."

Gintoki blinked and then canted his shoulder over the braid he'd started as Takasugi crowded up next to him. "What're you doing? Get back, find your own hair to braid."

"No, this has been bothering me since the first time I watched you do it."

Gintoki tried shoving him away with his shoulder. "I do it perfectly."

"Perfectly wrong."

Aghast, he quickly finished the braid and then twitched as he stared down at the rumpled, messed up thing.

"It's kinky," Takasugi chuckled, slapping the back of Gintoki's hand, hitting part of the arm brace.

"Like  _you_  could do any better," Gintoki muttered darkly, releasing the braid and letting Takasugi unravel it.

And moments later, Takasugi  _did_ do better. The braid turned out straight and lacked all the frazzled hairs out of place that Gintoki's had.

Grumbling, he battered Takasugi away and started undoing the braid. "It's crooked."

Takasugi shoved into him and grappled with his hands. "No it's not!  _You're_ crooked!"

Katsura laughed and it was a relieving sound, one that lighted an oppressive weight. Takasugi glanced at Gintoki and the look they shared was an understanding one. They needed this tiny reprieve, all three of them did. So, they bantered and braided black hair and shut themselves off from everything else. Katsura ended up with four braids, two kinked ones and two normal ones. The three of them talked some all the while, but Gintoki was fading fast.

He tried to stay awake, he really did, but the sleep he so desperately needed quickly consumed him. His friends were taken care of, there was nothing more he could do for them at the time, and with nothing more to do, he shut down. His body went slack randomly – Katsura and Takasugi were talking, their familiar voices lulling him – and he slumped sideways, his head hitting Takasugi's shoulder, their bodies pressed together along that side. It would only be a nap, it was only ever a nap, but he'd take what he could get. And when he felt Takasugi's arm go around his waist to support him better, he felt secured enough to steal just a few moments of slumber.


	3. Sometimes All it Takes is a Nudge to Get You Going

The battleground was quiet, deathly so, and the sun was hidden behind a mass of thick gray clouds that had been accumulating throughout the day. There was a chill in the air, more to do with the time of year than the overall atmosphere, though it was appropriate either way. The dirt where Gintoki sat was one of the only clean places around, except for the spot to his left which was occupied by the only body in the field whose warmth wasn't slowly fading. A stale, acrid scent weighed down on the silence, so still it would have seemed like the world itself had stopped if not for the crows circling and amassing overhead.

Gintoki bowed his head, blood sliding down his face to drip off his chin and the end of his nose. He didn't bother wiping any of it away because more and ever more would just take its place. His lips slowly spread into a strained smile as the urge to laugh made his body shake. None of that blood was his own, not a single goddamn drop. Anyone else might be amazed or proud of themselves, impressed by their own strength and skill.

But not him.

Gintoki wasn't disgusted or ashamed, but he wasn't proud, either. There was nothing to be proud of when taking the lives of others, Amanto or human. It was his constant affliction, the desire to fight, draw blood, destroy and protect, preserve, keep safe warring inside of him. Most of the time he had to do the former for the latter, satisfying both intensities, but that didn't mean he was happy about it. He wasn't necessarily unhappy about it though, not when he thrived so well and excelled the way he did.

He couldn't recall ever aching so much. He wasn't wounded at all, but it felt like every sinew of his body protested even breathing. His feet were sore, had blisters on them, both the regular ones and blood blisters as well. He couldn't decide which one he liked the least, they were both annoying. His fingers could only move in little jerks, he'd been gripping his sword so tight and striking so hard that he'd lost feeling in them... he didn't know how long ago. He was filthy since he was smattered in sweat and blood, he'd have to find a ravine to soak himself in just to feel human again, if ever he could truly feel that way.

The warm body he felt along his left shoulder moved slightly, a little shift before stilling again. Gintoki didn't know how long they'd been sitting there, he'd say awhile, but the crows hadn't landed yet so it couldn't have been too long. It'd been long enough for his muscles to start cramping, but he couldn't be bothered with them while his body was cooling down, the bloodlust finally settling for the time being. Staying in one place, no matter if it was just after a battle was dangerous, he knew, but he needed to sit. And with Takasugi at his back, he felt comfortable enough to do so and take the time he needed.

"We should go," Takasugi said quietly. "Katsura will be expecting us, you know how he is."

Gintoki hummed, but didn't move and neither did Takasugi. They were exhausted, both of them were, but it would take much and more to get either to admit it. The battle had lasted hours, Amanto appearing in endless waves from all sides. It had been a great victory, but as always there was a whiplash of loss, a repercussion to their forces and something equally as detrimental to themselves – a wound that couldn't be physically seen, but felt deep down in a place dark and out of reach.

The silence then cracked and broke under the desolate caw of the crows as they began to land and gorge themselves on the carrion. He was surprised it'd taken them so long, normally they were all over even before the last weapons had clashed, the daring little bastards. They'd be well fed for a long while, that was for sure. The field was full of bodies, no doubt the smell of decaying flesh would be rank before the day was done and already the coppery tang of blood was pungent.

Fatigue coursed through Gintoki's body, his muscles felt like lead and there was an aching soreness that permeated deep, mingling with a weariness that had sunk into his bones. So many hours of constantly being on edge, constantly moving, constantly watching his back, he was completely burnt out. And yet he couldn't stop, the day wasn't over, there was still much to do. He'd have to pick himself up soon and start all over again, despite everything. Not yet, though, he was going to allow himself just a little more time to sit and simply breathe. Without this small, short-lived reprieve, he'd lose track of himself and everything around him.

Takasugi shifted again like he was uncomfortable, but Gintoki knew he was relatively uninjured. There were just a few scrapes and cuts, nothing life threatening or requiring immediate attention. He knew because he'd been covertly keeping an eye on Takasugi while they fought in close quarters, using and playing off each other for efficiency while they were so outnumbered. Zura and Sakamoto had taken another group elsewhere and they had a rendezvous point to meet up at, but there was no set time. There never was since it was impossible to tell how long a battle might take. The strategy had been to cut this particular Amanto faction in half and drive them apart, cornering them and putting them on unfamiliar territory so they could be picked off easier.

It had worked, but a lot of effort had gone into it, lending even more to the oppressive exhaustion. Both the battlegrounds had to be found and once the Amanto force had been located, the really difficult part began. A series of ambushes – nearly all of which Gintoki had led himself – had followed, driving the Amanto apart into two battlements. Zura retreated in one direction, drawing half away while Takasugi retreated in another direction, getting the second half to follow. Sakamoto went after Zura's attackers, striking from the back, trapping them in the right place and Gintoki did the same to his and Takasugi's targets. The whole thing had taken days to put together and execute, days of ceaseless fighting and planning and defending.

When was the last time he'd slept? He honestly couldn't recall. There was no such thing as sleeping, only short, uneasy naps and he couldn't remember the last time he'd had one of those, either. He needed to rest and recharge, but he still had a lot to do. And one of his top priorities now that the battle had ended was to go make sure Zura and Sakamoto had come out okay. He had faith in their abilities as fighters, but in battle, nothing was certain and accidents happened – one wrong move could mean the end of everything. But he felt too heavy to move, too drained to summon the energy needed to do anything other than take another breath.

There was a scuffling behind him and the press against his shoulder disappeared, the other's movement making him lift his head. Before he could so much as think about standing as well, Takasugi's forehead bumped into his and he closed his eyes, taking comfort from the touch. Black bangs mixed with silver, some of the strands of each matted and slick with blood. It was still all over Gintoki's face, he was beginning to think it was a perpetual state of being for him and he'd heard enough times how terrifying he looked that it was engrained in him.

"I won't be long," Gintoki said, nudging back.

"Do what you need to," Takasugi replied before, with the tiniest push, he was walking away, his warmth still lingering.

Gintoki slit his eyes open and watched him go, picking his way through the bodies with relative ease. It made him smirk when Takasugi kicked out at one of the Amanto as he passed it, grumbling something or another under his breath at the crow that was cawing at him. Gintoki wanted to follow, wanted to make sure Takasugi made it back to the rendezvous point okay, wanted to see Zura and Sakamoto and make sure for himself that they were both fine.

But no, there were things he had to do first. He needed to scout, had to make certain an Amanto hadn't escaped to alert others what had happened. Everyone else had fought just like he had, so knowing they'd be tired and possibly injured, he had to take it upon himself to keep them safe from an ambush. It was all he could do when he was otherwise helpless – fight and protect what he had for as long as he could.

When Takasugi was out of sight, Gintoki dug deep within himself and grasped onto what kept him going. He let it fuel him and with it burning bright inside his heart and bleeding out into his soul, he found the strength to stand. Reaching up, he tightened his blood soaked headband and set out through the carnage and crows in the opposite direction as Takasugi, sword at his side and a long night ahead.


	4. Felted and Fraying

Katsura paced back and forth among the ranks, doing what he could wherever he could and none of it felt like enough. They'd finished a battle not two hours before, so there was wounded aplenty and Katsura would have been thankful for the distraction if it weren't such a grim task. He'd left the battle with some scrapes and bruises, but nothing more serious than that. Mainly because he hadn't shown up until the end, bringing with him that last push to run the remaining Amanto down.

He hadn't been idle while the others were fighting, he'd had some men with him while he rigged a series of bombs set to go off a couple miles east. The line of explosives were along a narrow pass that a large group of Amanto should, judging by their steady linear pace, be going through within the next day. The very last bomb they'd put in was the only one active and once it was disrupted, it would explode and all the others would follow suit, hopefully taking out the mass of that troupe. It would be nice if that was the only group of Amanto they had to worry about, but no, there were four other troupes that they knew of and more would just come out of the woodwork when they least expected it. The whole thing was just one big, never ending clusterfuck. 

“Takasugi!” Katsura chastised. “Stop picking at that!”

“But it itches,” Takasugi snapped back, pawing at the bandage around his neck. 

“Deal with it!”

Takasugi had gotten off lucky with a neck wound and some shallow stomach lacerations that _could_ have been avoided if only Takasugi wore chest armor like everyone else did. But of course that wasn't the case because that would be too easy. No, Takasugi had to be overly difficult, going on about how armor 'slowed him down.' What a cop out that was! It didn't slow Gintoki down at all, not even a little bit, and speaking of which....

“Any sign of him?”

Sakamoto, standing off to the side for the very purpose of keeping an eye out, shook his head. “Not yet.”

Katsura barely managed to contain his frustrated noise, but may as well have let it ring out as he threw his hands up, gesticulating impressively. He was more than just annoyed, he was worried and tired and high strung and that mixture never boded well. He knew that Gintoki often went off and scouted, among other things, after battle, but two hours was pushing it for the latest fight. It had been too brutal, lasted too long, and Katsura _knew_ Gintoki had sustained a number of injuries. How many, exactly, he wasn't sure, but he could almost feel that it was a lot considering that Gintoki had been in the first wave of fighters and hadn't left the field the whole time. 

To keep himself busy, Katsura continued to buzz around the men, zipping to anyone who needed him. A few days before they'd been lucky enough to intercept a supply wagon, but already the food and medical provisions they'd managed to get were pretty much gone. Ointments, bandages, painkillers, gauze, splints, adhesive tape, sterile wipes – nearly all of it had been used up. Katsura had been conservative with it, too, only using the materials when he absolutely had to and still, despite his best efforts, they'd burned through it in less than three days. 

Another hour passed and Katsura did his damnedest not to continuously ask Sakamoto or any of the other sentries for an update. Nothing was settling down, more injured were flooding in and Katsura barely had time to breathe. Fighters who were able enough began setting up tasks that needed to be done while the wounded rested and it was a relief that they didn't need to be directed for that. Takasugi had left some time ago, still bitching about his neck, to pour over some maps and figure out what their next move should be. Sakamoto couldn't really do anything besides stand around because his leg was splinted and standing kept the blood flowing, so he was perfect for sentry – also known as Gintoki watch. That kept Sakamoto doing something, the tactical area not really being his strong suit, though, he was definitely good at following through. 

It was going on hour four by the time Gintoki meandered into the camp, Sakamoto making a nervous noise to announce his arrival. Katsura looked up and his eyes narrowed at Gintoki whose clothes were so bloodied they were more red than white. A trail of blood spots splattered in Gintoki's wake, sounding like rain as the droplets hit the ground. But Gintoki didn't even acknowledge it, just kept walking like there wasn't a thing wrong, that he wasn't bleeding everywhere, that everything was as it should be. Granted, sometimes the blood wasn't even Gintoki's, but this time it was, Katsura could just _tell_. And it was fresh, it had to be, a wound like that would have had him passing out hours ago from blood loss. 

Stomach hitting an all new low in his gut, he strode over, intercepting Gintoki. “Where the hell have you been?”

Gintoki blinked at him, face next to blank, and shrugged. _Shrugged!_ Katsura had learned that when Gintoki acted that way, it was useless to press. It was infuriating, but that was the way things had become throughout the course of the war. Each battle took more from them, wore them down, again and again, unrelenting. 

“Let me look at you,” Katsura said, reaching out.  
Gintoki barely moved, but it made Katsura's hand miss, fingers brushing blood soaked fabric. “I'm fine.”

How many times Katsura had heard that one stupid phrase come from Gintoki's mouth, he couldn't say, he'd lost count. It was Gintoki's default answer to everything, even when bleeding everywhere and the idiot just _had_ to be in pain. Closer now, Katsura could actually see the damage – some of it, anyway – and it looked bad. Gintoki's right arm was limp, brutally torn at the shoulder and it was impossible to tell how far down the gash went on both sides. Blood appeared from beneath the arm guard in rivulets and dripped off the ends of Gintoki's fingers. The other's left cheek was bruised and somewhat swollen, making Gintoki's eye squint a little bit. 

“Yeah, so fine you need a tourniquet at the very least,” Katsura snapped. Huffing, he motioned to Gintoki's arm, knowing that if he tried to touch it, the other would just move away again. “Is it broken? Is that your worst injury? Talk to me!”

“I told you it's fine, Zura,” Gintoki replied and the moron had the audacity to try a smile. 

The annoying part about it was that the smile Gintoki was giving him would have been convincing if Katsura didn't know what to look for. But he did know and he almost wished he didn't because he wanted so bad to believe that smile. 

“It's not Zura, it's Katsura! And no, it's not fine. Let me see.”

He took a step forward and Gintoki took a step back, head lowering in a defensive position. Gintoki had started doing that recently, keeping people away from him, though nearly all of the fighters did that on their own. Katsura couldn't quite blame them, the Shiroyasha wasn't exactly the most approachable person, but Gintoki was – the faction just couldn't tell the difference. 

“Hold still,” Katsura growled, getting even more worried and pissed off because Gintoki was being a shit when he looked about ready to keel over from the loss of so much blood. The other's face was so pale, so much paler than it normally was, and it made the red and white headband stand out all the more. “I can't –“

“Uhm, Katsura-san?”

Katsura turned on the man, glaring and irritated. “What?!”

“The men – that is, another group showed up,” the man stuttered out nervously, glancing repeatedly at Gintoki the whole time. “A-all wounded but one, we need –“

“I know what you need,” Katsura interjected, a headache forming. “I'll be there soon, I need to finish up here first.”

The soldier nodded and took off, seeming glad to get away. Katsura once more rounded on Gintoki who stared at him, a deep seated defiance gleaming in bright red eyes.

“You should go help them.”

“I'm needed more here right now.” Gintoki's mouth opened to reply and Katsura said before the other could get a word out, “You're _not_ fine.”

Gintoki didn't like to hear that, it was obvious in the way he changed his stance, shoulders squaring to show off more of that defiance. Or maybe it wasn't defiance at all, maybe it was something deeper than that, something Katsura didn't understand. Either way, Katsura... needed help, he couldn't do this on his own. No amount of reading or studying could have ever prepared him for any of this and he was in way over his head. If Sensei were there, he'd know what to do. Katsura wasn't ready for this, didn't know the best way to manage everything that was put in front of him. Gintoki was the hardest to deal with, Katsura simply didn't know how to control the Shiroyasha and it wasn't even control he was really after, just a good way to _handle_ Gintoki would be nice. 

“Sorry about this, buddy,” Sakamoto said just before hitting the back of Gintoki's knees with his crutch.

Katsura had been so distracted that he hadn't even noticed Sakamoto hobble over, but he was entirely grateful for the interference. Gintoki fell to a knee and Katsura practically pounced, putting a hand on Gintoki's good shoulder to keep him down. If Gintoki had really wanted to, he could have gotten up and pushed Katsura away, but instead he stayed put and that... wasn't exactly a good sign. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled to Sakamoto, but he didn't feel any better. Gintoki stayed on his knee and looked like he was going to jump up at any moment, so Katsura had to work fast. “Sakamoto, I need –“ A bag dropped at Katsura's side, one filled the very medical supplies he'd been out to ask for. Huffing slightly, he set about removing Gintoki's body armor mumbling, “For a guy with only one good leg, you get around.”

Sakamoto laughed and waved his crutch, silently threatening Gintoki with it. “As if this could ever slow me down!”  
Katsura hummed in acknowledgment, then hissed as Gintoki's shoulder wound was bared. Gintoki was already fidgeting, wanting to get up, so Katsura put everything else out of his mind and really focused on the task at hand. It was useless to try and mop up the blood, so he wiped the wound off and used a sterilized pad to clean it. It should have stung like a bitch, should have made Gintoki react, but the other just sat there impatiently on his knee and Katsura was curious, not for the first time, if Gintoki felt any of it at all. And the way Gintoki could _look_ sometimes – on and off the battlefield – it made Katsura wonder if he ever really knew the other in the first place. Those red eyes could burn so bright, it was amazing... and unsettling. 

Shaking his head, Katsura fished out the suture kit and moved Gintoki's clothes aside enough for him to really get at the wound. Gintoki's arm remained limp and unmoving, his body wholly tense, but looking at the other, he just appeared annoyed more than anything. Katsura could deal with annoyed, it was a pissed off Gintoki that was a precursor for inevitable retaliation. The pain was probably blinding, should have been to any normal person, and Katsura would feel better if Gintoki took some of the painkillers that they had left. However, Katsura had learned not to broach that topic because Gintoki wouldn't do it. It was like a fucked up quirk, Gintoki would dig his heels in and plaintively refuse any medication, no matter how much pain he was in. He was sure the reason was because Gintoki wanted the pills to be used on others, but Katsura was also sure that there was another reason, not that Gintoki would say.

Katsura was careful as he stitched Gintoki's shoulder up, his fingers shaking slightly, but from fatigue or concern, he didn't know. Gintoki didn't so much as flinch each time the needle went through skin and there was no reaction when Katsura pulled, cinching the two sides back together. His fumbling fingers made the stitches uneven and haphazard, but adequate enough. When he tied off the last knot, Gintoki tried to stand, but Katsura put a hand on top of unruly silver hair and pushed, keeping Gintoki down.

“Not done yet,” he said, quickly bringing out the bandages because he could feel his time was dwindling. 

He did end up putting Gintoki's arm in a tourniquet, though that might have been unnecessary since it was more than likely that Gintoki wouldn't put up with the thing for long. It was just hard to tell the real extent of the damage to Gintoki's arm when the other was being so uncooperative. Sakamoto's presence helped some, but only a little. The same man from before appeared then and visibly cowed when Gintoki looked up to stare at him. 

“What is it?” Katsura asked, working on the last of the makeshift tourniquet.

“Sorry again, Katsura-san, but the men....”

“Right, I'll be there in a moment.” The man, Katsura couldn't remember his name, left and he promptly bonked Gintoki on the head, chiding, “Don't do that.”

“What?” Gintoki asked, but the look on his face told Katsura that the idiot already knew.

“You know they don't like it when you just stare like that.”

Gintoki snorted, a trail of blood going from his saturated headband and down his cheek. “So?”

“So, I'm done,” Katsura said as he pulled the last bandage into place, brushing the topic aside. He had no idea how Gintoki felt about the other men and it wasn't something he had the capacity to wrap his mind around at the moment. “I have to go, but I'll be back. Try to rest up, eat something if you can stomach it.”

Gintoki was notorious for that, not feeling like eating after a battle, so he didn't and subsequently went hungry while the rest of the faction ate the day's rations right up. Katsura tried to set aside some food for exactly that reason, but more often than not, it was given away or went untouched. Takasugi could be that way too sometimes, but Gintoki was worse by a fair margin – possibly because there were no sweets to be had. Meanwhile, Sakamoto ate anything and everything and actually _behaved_ when Katsura was doctoring him up.

“Stay out of trouble,” he ordered after packing the supplies up and slinging them over his shoulder.

He left Gintoki in Sakamoto's temporary care, but he was still worrying about it even after he left. He was sure Gintoki had other wounds, but he couldn't get at them with Gintoki being such a stubborn jackass. But that wasn't the most troubling thing for Katsure, there was something far darker looming over him. Each day, he watched the people he'd once known so well fade, giving way to more calloused, colder, _distant_ versions – strangers. He never would have thought that their lives, so tightly woven, could unravel, but... that was the reality of it. The strings that wound them together were loosening and falling away at an alarming rate. Gintoki would hardly listen to him anymore, reverting back to something akin to the way he'd been when Sensei had first brought him to the village. Takasugi's personality was gradually morphing into someone Katsura was unfamiliar with and he never would have thought his oldest friend would become... different. 

Sighing, Katsura mulled over things as he helped with the injured, showing some how to do suture properly and others how to clot a gash. He was sort of wasting his breath since it was more than likely that a few of the men he was talking to wouldn't survive the next battle. Still, teaching people about this stuff was important, so Katsura did it in the hopes that the knowledge could be used on the field and save lives that way. 

He spent more than hour there and when he was done, he was stiff and sore. Mainly from the fight, but squatting down and working over people for hours hadn't helped. His medical bag was notably lighter, barely weighing anything where it hung over his shoulder and that added to the stone in his gut. Silently, he made his way back to where he'd left Sakamoto and Gintoki and wasn't surprised to find them gone. Gintoki had a penchant for wandering off and there was nothing a hindered and limping Sakamoto would be able to do about that, even wielding a crutch.

Sighing, shoulders drooping with wearing fatigue, he headed for the area he and Takasugi had set up for them toward the outer rim of the fray. They always had to be on the outside of the camp, anywhere in it and Gintoki wouldn't come near. It was better to be on the edge anyway, easier to keep watch that way. 

Katsura's spirits were lifted a little when he reached the small area and found Gintoki there with Sakamoto and Takasugi. Gintoki was cleaner, less bloodied, which was an improvement, however a small one. What really got to Katsura, though, was that Gintoki's arm was still in the tourniquet, which was both a good and bad thing. Good because Gintoki needed it and bad for the same reason. Both he and Takasugi were standing, Sakamoto sitting with his leg propped up and a bowl of rice in his lap. Maps were open at Takasugi's feet, but it looked like he was done with them, some red lines and circles marking the once clean page.

“Oi, did you eat?” Katsura asked, looking at Gintoki who still had the appearance of someone blank and guarded. 

“He's not going to.”

Katsura set his bag down next to Sakamoto and turned to Takasugi. “Quit messing with your neck!”

“But it itches...” Takasugi mumbled, disgruntled, then shook his head, his hand dropping to his side. 

“It'll itch more if you mess with it.”

“Isn't there a cream or something for it?”

“Yes, but we're out.” Takasugi hissed and Katsura knew he must _really_ be out of it because he was just then picking up on the static in the air. He looked between Takasugi and Gintoki, stomach squirming with something nervous and uncomfortable. “Is... everything okay?”

“Of course,” Takasugi replied much too quickly.

Gintoki didn't answer at all, so Katsura looked to Sakamoto. “Okay?”

Sakamoto's glasses glinted and with a jerky nod, he shoved a spoonful of food into his mouth. Katsura's heart and stomach flipped and got that much heavier. It was probably just Gintoki and Takasugi having another disagreement, they had more and more of those, but Katsura wanted to know and he wanted to do what he could to fix things. He was next to desperate for a way to do so as he plopped down across from Sakamoto, relieved at least to be off his feet for a time. 

“Who's up for some UNO?” Katsura asked, whipping out the deck he always kept stashed on himself like a lucky item. 

He was met by silence, Gintoki didn't even look like he was paying attention, though Katsura knew he was. Takasugi at least looked up at him, but there was a bleakness in his eyes, something guarded that never used to be there. It was like watching them get farther away while he was unable to do anything to stop it. Gintoki said little to nothing to him anymore, keeping everything clammed up inside behind a face that could go void in a blink. Takasugi was meaner, more prickly and irritable than ever, and sometimes even lashed out for no reason. 

And on the battlefield... each of them were a force to be reckoned with in their own right, but Takasugi and Gintoki had something Katsura lacked. It was a ruthlessness, a dogged veracity, an unforgiving and dangerous edge to something close to primal. Gintoki had brutal strength and speed, he was a driving force, always first on the field and last to leave. He would fight until he was ripped to shreds and barely able to move anymore, then he'd find some impossible way to keep fighting and it would somehow _work_ when by all right it shouldn't. Takasugi was quick and efficient, in a hurry to kill as many as he could in the shortest amount of time. 

When had they become like this?

“Not now,” Takasugi bit out. He glared hard at Gintoki who just stared back, then spun and walked off, muttering, “Gotta go check something.”

Sakamoto found his food extremely interesting as he ate, carefully spooning out a mouthful and inspecting it before eating. He tended to open up when Takasugi and Gintoki weren't around, wise enough to keep his mouth shut or get swatted at for it. 

“Maybe someday you'll find someone that loves UNO as much as you do,” Gintoki said softly before he turned the opposite direction as Takasugi and wandered off, leaving the camp altogether.

Katsura's smile was grim and mirthless as he nodded, silently putting the deck back into the folds of his worn clothes that screamed for a wash. He didn't watch Gintoki or Takasugi go, for some reason, even knowing they'd come back eventually, it still hurt. The whole thing really was all unraveling right before his eyes, the three of them drifting farther apart, but he could only hope that by the time it was done, there would be at least one string still tying them all together. And some days, that was the only thing that kept him going. 


End file.
